


The Absent Lodger

by MortuaryBee



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortuaryBee/pseuds/MortuaryBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's finally had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absent Lodger

You didn’t intend for it to happen this way. It wasn’t meant to happen this way. There was at least another month before he was supposed to be gone; you recognized the signs before he even knew what he was doing. Longer nights out. More frequent. The smile that lasted long after the initial rush of adrenaline. The inevitable meeting and introduction. 

You weren’t expecting much from her, but somehow this was different. He looked different. Determined almost, and she was an anomaly. Divergent from his past interests. She laughed at your snide comments and wasn’t nearly as mentally deficient as most of the women John brought around. She kept up with your conversations, and let John have his space. She had a life of her own, she said, and wasn’t going to interfere with his. She avoided being taken hostage long enough for John to stop worrying, and she almost never kept him from a case. She missed as many dates as he did. They were the perfect couple. And for a time, you didn’t mind. You almost forgot she was there until you saw the way his eyes lit up at a text or the way he chuckled when he read a certain book you know he didn’t have before. 

For the most part it was bearable. He was in a better mood, yes, but that was good for you both and you were almost grateful. Almost. You could never quite shake the feeling that he didn’t belong anymore. He hadn’t changed since you met, people never really do, but maybe he is ready to settle down. To commit. Not something he could do very easily with bullets in the wall and unorthodox organic material in the fridge. 

It’s not as if you thought he would stay forever. You’re not naive, but it was nice to pretend for a while. You’d hoped he’d leave on good terms, but now? Now you’re staring at where the door slammed in your face and he’s gone.

It’ll be permanent this time and while you’ll still be friends you won’t be as close. Sure he’ll calm down in a few days. Give you a call, possibly apologize, bring over some of his old movies and leave it on the menu screen while you call for a takeaway. And it’ll be a lie, but an easily ignorable one. Until he realizes how late it is and you offer to let him stay. The bed’s still there. Mrs. Hudson changed the sheets in hopes of his return but you won’t tell him that. You won’t tell him you still think of it as his bed.

But he didn’t bring any clothes and she’ll worry so he texts her and you can’t stand the noise his phone makes when she replies which doesn’t make any sense because it’s just the standard tone. And you suddenly need to wipe that inane grin off his face because it’s yours. You used to make him laugh like that. Now you hate the sound of it. And, even if you convince him to stay the night that will just delay the inevitable. At the very most he’ll stay for breakfast and make the same useless small talk he gives the suffering widows and newly homeless children on a case and you still don’t understand why. And He’ll tell bad jokes that he somehow manages to pull off and he’ll probably genuinely enjoy himself, but you’ll be able to see how hard he’s trying. How much he’ll want to leave. To go to her, not you, never you again, and eventually you’ll tell him you have a case on and he’ll know it’s a lie because you wouldn’t have let him inside in the first place if you were working and he knows that, but he’d nod and grab his things and forget the DVD as a subconscious incentive for himself to return at some point. 

And eventually, he will. 

But it’ll be less and less frequent and he’ll never pick it up until the damn thing sits in the DVD player that he bought for almost two months and you’ll never rewatch it because it was his idea anyway. It’s his movie. His night. And eventually you’ll start thinking about putting an ad in the paper and that’ll be when it really hits.

He’s not coming back. 

You can stop trying to organize the kitchen and your stacks of newspapers and information because no one cares. There’s no one else living here and Mycroft would agree to help with the rent until you find a flatmate but by the time you realize what’s happening it’s been so long you’ve stopped looking and he’s stopped asking and you’re alone. And while Mrs. Hudson will always be a surrogate mother of sorts it won’t be the same. You can’t bring her on cases. She can’t stitch you up in the dead of night. The image almost makes you laugh until it makes you bitter instead because you know what it really means.

You don’t want to be his best man.

So you rush out of the flat after him, ears still ringing from when he slammed the door, and you’re almost at the bottom of the stairs when Mrs. Hudson’s asking something you promptly ignore. You can’t miss your chance so you brush her off a bit too hard and grab at his shoulders as he walks out the door. He shrugs them off with a bark so sharp you think he might hit you. The rush of your warm blood on his knuckles would be an improvement to the cold emptiness that’s been surrounding you both for the past few weeks and for a moment you want it.

He’s still moving at a moderate pace, just fast enough to tell you he’s done, when he stops suddenly next to a parked black limousine. Definitely not your brother’s. You narrow your eyes at the tinted windows as the driver opens his door. He left it cracked just enough for you to hear the music pumping through the vehicle. What had been a muffled beat contained within the car was now loud and clear.

“All the single ladies, all the single ladies”

You frown at the catchy, infectious, beat and ignore the parallels to your own life.

“Don't pay him any attention  
'Cause you had your turn, and now you gonna learn”

And yet you can’t help but speculate who she had in mind when she wrote it.

“Pull me into your arms, say I'm the one you want  
If you don't, you'll be alone, and like a ghost, I'll be gone”

You catch her eye for a moment before she waves at you almost sweetly. Your frown deepens. She stares you down and her entire hand glints for a moment, which at first is confusing, but the sentiment is the same and you refuse to acknowledge what you’ve known for weeks. The surprisingly small amount of make-up on dark skin contrasts with her black spandex attire; she’s come straight from work. She smirks before John abruptly slams the door, severing the connection between you, and you sigh.

“If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it  
Don't be mad once you see that he want it  
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it”

You are alone. And you watch them drive away before turning, slowly, back to what you had been so content with for such a long time.

“Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh  
Oh oh oh oh”

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome.


End file.
